


Please...

by skittenninja



Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Choking, Death Threats, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Possession, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittenninja/pseuds/skittenninja
Summary: Whumptober 2020 Day Six: Cas should have known it wasn't really Dean as soon as he got back to the bunker. Now he's trapped inside of it with a witch puppeteering Dean's body, and Cas is far too aware of the fact that he won't be able to bring himself to fight back as his doom draws ever closer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949905
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Please...

Cas was cornered.

If he hadn’t been gone for most of the afternoon, he might have noticed Dean’s strange behaviour in the bunker. He might have noticed that Sam’s note, letting him know that he and Jack would both be out, was written in handwriting that was slightly off, letters trying too hard to be just the right amount of messy. Maybe he would have even found the sigils that Dean had hidden behind furniture and knickknacks that used the bunker’s own warding against Cas, trapping him inside.

There were two ways Dean would have figured out how to do such a thing. One, via the bunker’s library, although Dean had no reason to research anything related to the sigils at the moment. Or two, from a witch.

Considering Dean had greeted him with an angel blade that nearly missed his face and then proceeded to chase him around the place, Cas was more inclined to go with two.

He knew it had to be a spell of some kind, something a witch needed an angel for. Or at least, a dead angel. There was no way the warding would have let them through, so that’s probably where Dean came in.

It was the perfect plan. Have someone close to him get past the warding and then Cas would never see it coming.

Which he, unfortunately, hadn’t.

Cas could hear something being moved with way too much force down the hall from the room he was hiding in, clashing and clattering spelling out his doom as Dean got closer and closer to finding him.

The only light where he was came from Cas’ cellphone, which had been displaying his desperate attempts to call Sam or Jack for the past five minutes. No one ever picked up, and none of his texts were ever responded to. He wished he’d tried to call them when he’d initially gotten back to the bunker.

He wished he’d just stayed there during the morning so maybe none of this mess would have happened.

“Cas?” Dean called, and it sounded so much like him it was painful. It was him, it was his voice and his face and his eyes, but there was something else behind it all and Cas had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Cas, I swear it’s me,” Dean reassured, and Cas shut his eyes and gripped the phone even tighter as it rang and rang and rang.

“Cas please, I… I don’t know what happened and I need you to tell me that you’re okay. That I didn’t…”

Dean trailed off after that, and Cas knew what he was going to say. Or rather, what he would have said if it was actually Dean talking.

He wanted so badly to believe it was him.

The door of the room to his right slammed open, a loud reminder of what was really lurking through the hallways. Something was thrown across the room again, and with the sound it made Cas was surprised it didn’t come crashing through the wall.

“Cas… I need you.” Cas had heard those words before, and whatever was walking around in Dean’s place knew it too.

Begrudgingly, Cas gave up on the phone and put it back into his pocket, resigning himself to his fate. He couldn’t fight Dean, couldn’t hurt him, especially when the real Dean was trapped in the back of his own head somewhere.

He’d rather take a thousand blows then raise a fist to defend himself, and the witch was counting on that.

Footsteps approached the door in a leisurely rhythm, like the person on the other side was simply taking a stroll through a park and not about to murder someone. There was no movement for a good ten seconds, and Cas got the feeling that they knew he was in this room, that he had nowhere else to run. Hell, whoever was controlling Dean was probably enjoying it, taking their sweet time before entering to revel in the fact that they’d soon have the blood of an angel on their hands.

A soft knock in a playful pattern rapped against the door, a fun little addition to this terrifying game.

“Anyone home?” Dean’s voice called, dripping with so much mockery Cas could feel it from behind the door and across the room. They’d given up all pretenses now, and Cas wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

The door handle twitched several times, the only thing standing between Cas and an angel blade being some bits of metal. It seemed so insignificant.

There was a clicking noise, the lock opening who knew and who cared how. The door slowly opened with an ominous and grating creak, and all Cas could see was the light of the hallway turning Dean into a silhouette. He was a walking shadow with a face hidden by darkness, someone that resembled Dean but lacked the defining features, treading into uncanny territory.

A hand reached out and flipped on the light switch.

Dean smiled at him in a very un-Dean way, too much formality and a lack of any humour. Even from several feet away Cas could see the glowing purple of his irises, any hint of the normal green completely overtaken.

“Hello, Castiel,” Dean said, though for a second Cas heard another voice speak in time with it.

Cas got up, bracing himself for what was to come as Dean twirled the angel blade in his hand casually.

“Dean listen to me. I’m not going to fight you.”

“Aw, you know, that’s really sweet. I’m sure Dean will appreciate it when he wakes up and finds your corpse.” Dean laughed, and the sound was jarring. It was his voice, but the sound was too high pitched and fake, like a bad impression.

Cas’ back was already pressed against the wall as Dean sauntered over, blade gleaming gold in the room’s rustic lighting.

“Dean,” Cas tried again, remaining stoic, “I know you’re in there somewhere. I know you’re not going to give up here. You can’t.”

Dean smirked condescendingly, obviously finding this attempt piteous. The cold wall behind him and the icy stare in front of him left a chill in Cas’ bones as he tried to find the right words.

“I know you can hear me. I know you… I know you can probably see me too. I know that there’s still _you_ somewhere and I need you to show me that.”

Dean was so close now and the fact that he hadn’t attacked yet was harrowing, the tension hanging so heavy in the air Cas swore it would fall and kill them both. He searched Dean’s eyes for any recognition, any sign of the man he knew, but was only met with the gaze of a stranger.

A hand shot out and wrapped around Cas’ throat with inhuman grip, immediately cutting off his airway. This wouldn’t kill him, and they both knew that. It was just another part of this sick game.

“God, you’re both pathetic,” Dean hissed as Cas struggled in vain to free himself from his grip, legs and arms shooting out or grappling pointlessly. His neck hurt so badly, agony growing with every second and vision blurring sporadically. It would be a long, long time before he’d even pass out, but that was the entire point.

“An angel and an infamous Winchester aren’t any match for a novice witch,” Dean snarled. “I’d laugh if it wasn’t so disappointing. You didn’t even try to make this hard.”

Nails were starting to dig into Cas’ throat now as Dean’s grip tightened even more, and there was less and less force behind Cas’ struggles. There wasn’t much there to begin with, given that he couldn’t bring himself to harm Dean, meaning he might as well have just been high fiving the guy by this point.

“Dean…stop, please… I need you,” Cas croaked out, hoping beyond hope that this time he would somehow get through.

He was met with a fist to the jaw, his head snapping awkwardly and abruptly sideways as pain spread through his skull. The taste of metal was on his tongue and something warm dripped from his mouth.

“You’re bleeding!” Dean laughed, immediately dealing out another inhumanly strong punch that snapped Cas’ head back the other way, doubling the pain and blood.

“Just a couple of punches and I can make an angel bleed. I wonder what it would take to make an angel cry?”

Spots started to dance in Cas’ vision. How long had it been? The blows to the head probably weren’t helping his body’s lack of air, and when he tried to talk again, he found that no sound came out. All the things he could say were trapped inside his brain as he could only stare at Dean’s unnatural eyes and wait for the end.

A flash of silver and the angel blade was up to his neck, flesh taking his voice and metal preparing to take his life.

“Thanks for your help,” said Dean’s voice.

What happened next was instinctual. Cas lifted his hand up to his throat, right where the angel blade was, and managed to put it on Dean’s. He could feel the man tense, preparing for Cas to struggle one last time, but Cas never did. Instead, he just did his best to hold it, looking Dean in the eye again as their fingers met.

Cas would have expected his gesture to be immediately thrown off, to be greeted with yet another blow to the face, but seconds passed and neither of those things arrived.

The angel blade clattered to the ground, and Cas felt Dean’s hand move closer into his now that there was no weapon between them.

Dean’s hand squeezed Cas’ gently, and he didn’t even have to think for a second about whether or not it was really Dean who did it. There was no question, and Cas squeezed his hand back.

The unnatural violet in Dean’s eyes seemed to dim (either that or Cas’ sight was), and with it the pressure around his neck faded. Cas could tell there were marks all around his throat, but all he cared about was the hand that slowly pulled away from the damage, the hand that truly belonged to someone he knew.

Someone he trusted.

Someone he needed.

Someone he loved.

Cas gasped for air, hating the sound because it might break the fragility of what they had in that moment but being unable to stop it. Dean didn’t react, brow furrowed and eyes searching, as if he couldn’t really see the angel.

Despite his coughing and shaking, Cas reached out his other hand to grab Dean’s empty one, the one that had just been around his neck. Dean stiffened at the touch, but didn’t react again, frozen in a moment that felt like eternity as Cas’ hands grounded him.

Then he blinked, and it only took that instance for the purple to vanish from Dean’s eyes entirely, the sight of his green irises flooding Cas’ chest with a million different emotions.

Dean gasped suddenly, looking around in confusion as he processed the situation he was in. Cas could see fear forming in his brain as he pieced together what had happened, and he squeezed Dean’s hand again to remind him that he was there.

The hunter looked back at Cas, horror beginning to consume his expression as he took in the blood, scratches, and beginnings of bruises he knew marked his skin.

“Cas?” Dean said, and it was really him.

What happened after that was another moment of pure instinct. Cas didn’t even fully realize what he was doing until his lips connected with Dean’s. He could feel tears trailing down his cheeks and mixing with the aftermath of his injuries, but all of that felt so far away now that Dean’s lips were on his and their hands were intertwined.

Cas felt Dean let go of him and panicked internally, thinking he’d just made a grave mistake, but a second later he felt Dean’s hand again, this time holding the side of his face gently as he kissed Cas back. He thought they were both crying now, though he couldn’t be sure, and it didn’t matter much anyhow.

It only took a punch to make an angel bleed, but it also took a kiss to make him cry for all the right reasons.


End file.
